Just Another Day
by PrairieLily
Summary: Of all the days that could have gone sour on Jimmy, it just had to be his birthday, didn't it? McAbby and PalmerZiva, but not really a romance story. In fact, it centres more on the friendship aspect amongst the entire team. 2 of 2 posted, COMPLETE
1. Jimmy's Bad Day

**Title: Just Another Day**

**Disclaimer**: Not my characters, no infringement intended.

**Summary: **Of all the days that could have gone to hell on Jimmy, it just had to be his birthday, didn't it?

**Rating:** A fairly tame fic, I'll say T to be safe though.

**Pairings: **McAbby and Palmer/Ziva, although it isn't centered on the shippiness.

* * *

Jimmy Palmer arose out of bed and got himself showered, shaved, dressed, and ready for work. Today was just another day, he figured. 

Except, it wasn't just another day.

But Jimmy was accustomed to his birthday being just another day, having it be something that was about as special and memorable as a glass of warm water.

He didn't think anyone knew it was his birthday, and so he wasn't expecting any birthday greetings when he arrived at work, in the morgue at NCIS, but he wasn't expecting a withering glare from Dr. Mallard, either.

"Good morning, Doctor," he had said cordially. Ducky had glared up at him, annoyance in his blue eyes. "You are late, Mr. Palmer," he said, tersely. Jimmy blanched, glancing down at his wrist. He shook his head, perplexed. "But, my watch… I don't understand." He checked it again – yes, he should have a full 7 minutes before starting his shift. "I'm sorry Doctor, my watch must be running slow… I thought I had plenty of time," he stammered, confused and upset, and more than a little embarrassed. The old doctor fired another look of annoyance at him, and then pointed up at the clock on the wall in autopsy.

"You… are… late," he repeated, this time with his distinguished English brogue emphasizing each word for effect.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said, sighing with annoyance at himself. "It won't happen again." Dejected, he headed towards the changing room to get out of his street clothes.

Ducky watched after him, sighing sadly. He hated to do that to the poor lad, but everyone had to do their part to make sure the day went smoothly. He turned as Gibbs walked into the morgue.

"Jethro, would you be so kind now, as to fix that clock, please? I think it had the desired effect."

"You think he bought it, Duck?" Gibbs asked, a sparkle in his blue eyes. Ducky nodded, half with regret, and half with anticipation. "Oh, yes, Jethro. The young lad bought it. Hook, line, and sinker. Now please, fix that damned clock."

……………………………………………………………………………

Several minutes after Gibbs had fixed the clock for Ducky and had left autopsy, Jimmy emerged, clad in his usual uniform of green scrubs, and walked over to his desk, and was surprised to find two roses waiting for him.

Two long stemmed roses – one red, and one black.

The red rose, he guessed correctly, had come from Ziva. As far as he knew, she was the only one who was aware what today was, so he wasn't entirely surprised, considering all the time they'd been spending together lately. He picked it up, smiling slightly to himself, as he touched the silken petals and brought it to his face to drink in the scent. He closed his eyes briefly, savouring the thought of the woman behind the rose, and the sentiment. This moment might be the one thing to get him through the rest of the day, he feared.

Of course, _Ziva_ would remember. So the day wasn't a total write-off anyway. But, the day had only just begun, and on a rather bad note, to boot.

But the black rose, he thought, must have been intended for Abby, and been delivered to him by mistake. Perhaps Tim had bought it for her, and whoever had delivered it had assumed that the two flowers had been intended for the same person. He picked it up, gently touching the delicate dark petals, and decided that he had to do right by this rose.

He exited the morgue, and made his way to the lab. "Hey, Abby," Jimmy said quietly, as he walked in. Abby looked up at him, smiling. "Hey, Jims," she said, her green eyes bright. Jimmy cocked his head at her, smiling slightly. Abby was an enigma, and he swore that if they both spent the rest of their lives as colleagues at NCIS, he would never in a half-dozen decades manage to figure her out.

"I think this was meant for you," he said, holding out the rose. Abby's face fell slightly, and she looked at him, slightly crushed.

"It was on your desk, right?" Abby asked, concerned. Jimmy nodded, "Mm hmm." Abby smiled, relieved. "Oh, good then. No, it wasn't meant for me, Jimmy. It's yours. It was the last one, too. Took me forever to find it."

Jimmy's eyebrows shot up his forehead, much to Abby's amusement. "But… why would you…?" he stammered, not sure how to react just yet.

"Well, it's your birthday, isn't it?" Abby crossed her arms and cocked her head at him, her long dark pigtails swaying from the motion. Jimmy blinked a few times, glancing back and forth between the single long stemmed rose in his hands, and the beautiful Gothic friend who'd given it to him.

"Well… yeah, it is. But I didn't think anyone but Ziva knew." He was almost thrown off balance when she threw her arms around him and gave him a bear hug. "Everyone deserves something special on their birthday. Happy Birthday, Jims." She planted a big kiss on his cheek just as McGee walked in.

"What the hell… Palmer, what do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?" McGee, unlike Ducky, did not sound annoyed. McGee sounded well and truly pissed.

Jimmy usually got along pretty good with Timothy McGee. But at this very moment, all he wanted to do was get the hell out of Dodge. McGee carried a gun for a living, and Jimmy… did not.

"Bye Abby," he said, as he beat a hasty retreat. "Thanks for the gift," was the last thing that Abby and McGee heard as the doors closed on the shaken young morgue assistant.

"Nice, Timmy," Abby said, admiringly. "Very effective." McGee grinned and shrugged bashfully. "Thanks. I tried. Oh, very nice touch with the kiss, by the way – beautiful timing, Abs. Right on cue." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "You think he bought that I was upset?"

"Do ya think?" Abby said, winking.

……………………………………………………………………………

Jimmy wasn't looking forward to the next couple of hours.

He sat in the truck, waiting for Dr. Mallard to join him. They had just been called out to a crime scene, and Dr. Mallard had barely said three words to him since his arrival that morning.

When they arrived at the scene, after many minutes of uncomfortable silence, Jimmy stepped out of the truck, and moved to the back to grab their gear.

He looked over and saw Gibbs' team gathered around the body. When he walked over, he was met by a very irritated Tony DiNozzo, pushing him out of the way.

"Watch where you're going, Palmer. You just obliterated evidence," Tony said, clearly angry. Jimmy muttered a half-hearted apology, looking down at where he'd been walking. Sure enough, the tread of his boots had destroyed another footprint, presumably one that had, at one point, been a crucial piece of evidence in the case. He said nothing as he walked away, carefully watching his step.

"You think he realized that was my footprint, McGee?" Tony whispered, regretfully. McGee looked out towards the retreating form of Ducky's young assistant, his green eyes full of a mix of resolve, and regret. "I don't think so, Tony. If Jimmy had a tail right now, it'd be drooping."

"I know, Probie. I feel like crap doing that to him. I feel like I've just kicked a puppy." McGee made a face at him. "You did just kick a puppy, DiNozzo. Just remember, it's all for a good cause."

Jimmy, in the meantime, had quietly moved back towards where Ducky was crouched. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out the liver temp thermometer, and found, to his dismay, that it was broken.

He closed his eyes. Truly – was _nothing_ meant to go right today?

"Really, Mr. Palmer. Can you not do a better job of maintaining your instruments?" It was the most Dr. Mallard had said to him all day, and Jimmy was coming very close to throwing up his hands in defeat and going home.

"Here," Ducky said, reaching into his own bag. "Use mine."

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy said quietly, wondering if he'd manage to do anything right today, as he turned towards the body and got to work.


	2. Pocket Watches and Farting Toys

**Pocket Watches and Farting Toys**

Ziva didn't have much trouble catching up with Jimmy, when they'd returned to the Navy Yard. The young man was quiet, and seemed lost in thought, and trudged along, very nearly dragging his feet in dejection.

"There you are, my darling," she said, catching up to him and linking her arm around his. "How about dinner at my place tonight, after work. Just the two of us. I cooked something special for us," she said, trying to entice him.

"Oh, Ziva… hon, I don't think so. I'm not really in the mood for it." Jimmy smiled at her, very unconvincingly.

"Nonsense. It's your _birthday._ I've been planning this dinner for you for _weeks_, now. You _have_ to come over. It'll be a lovely evening, just the two of us. You can vent about your day… we can snuggle down in front of my fireplace, with some wine, perhaps. It'll be very, very romantic." Ziva was insistent, and she continued her steady, dark eyed gaze up at him, until finally, he relented.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there." He tried to smile at her again, but only managed a half-hearted effort. He was just too tired and frustrated from the collective events of the day to really even fake enthusiasm.

Not that he normally needed to fake enthusiasm where Ziva was concerned. In fact, neither one of them really had to make an effort to be truly happy, in each other's company. Ziva was one of the few people who had treated him with respect, and genuine friendship, almost from the moment they'd met. He adored her for it, and the adoration, it had eventually become apparent, was mutual.

Ziva beamed up at him. "Excellent. I will see you later then," she said, reaching up to stroke his face and kiss him lightly.

Trust Ziva to be the one bright spot in an otherwise dark and dismal day.

……………………………………………………………………………

When Jimmy had returned to his desk in the morgue, he stood, staring at it, completely perplexed.

There, sitting on top of a pile of file folders, were three boxes. One of them, the smallest box, had attached to it a handwritten note - short, and to the point.

"Mr. Palmer," it read, in Ducky's distinctive hand writing.

Ducky peeked his head around the corner, watching. Around another corner, also unseen, were several sets of eyes and ears, watching and listening with barely contained excitement.

Jimmy picked the box up, staring at it, almost in disbelief.

Ducky had to stop himself from giggling like a school boy, as Jimmy carefully and delicately opened the small box. He watched, as Jimmy's green eyes grew wide with surprise. Inside the box was a beautifully intricate antique style pocket watch. Jimmy smiled to himself as he delicately removed it from the box and studied it, appreciating the fine detail and craftsmanship, then turned it around and read the engraved inscription. His eyes grew slightly wide and his face lit up with surprise and delight, as he read the words,

_"Dr. James Palmer, M.E."_

Ducky couldn't stand it anymore. He stepped out of the shadows, and into Jimmy's line of vision.

"Happy Birthday, my boy. If you look at the clock, you'll see that the watch is already set for you." Jimmy swallowed, and took a moment to find his voice. "Dr. Mallard… I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Carry this with some measure of pride when you take my place here, Jimmy. I know you'll make me proud, because I know that you will do this job justice. And you will help to bring justice to the unfortunate souls who find themselves here, on our tables. In fact, you already do, dear fellow."

"I… I'm speechless, Doctor. Really." Jimmy shook his head, unable to wipe the smile from his face all of a sudden. It was a beautiful sight to the old doctor, to once again see his young assistant's familiar bright, youthful grin, after the hellish day he knew the poor lad had just endured.

"Now, I wonder what's in those other boxes?" Ducky seemed as curious as a young boy on Christmas morning.

Jimmy picked up the middle sized one, and read the note. In Tony's free-spirited hand, was written "Happy Birthday to our favourite (only) Autopsy Gremlin" (and here, there was a hand drawn happy face, to ensure that the nickname would not be taken as a put-down), "from Tony and Tim." Added below it, in Tim's neat and tidy southpaw script, was the suggestion, "Wear these to the rest of our crime scenes, along with your hiking merit badge," followed by a sideways internet-style smiley – a typical and expected greeting from their resident computer forensics expert.

He couldn't stop the wince of memory - of a badly sprained ankle long since healed, and the small explosion of a hearty chuckle escaping from his throat as he opened the box to find a pair of expensive high-end hiking boots. "Oh, my," he laughed softly. "They're not gonna let me forget that, are they?" Ducky shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my dear boy."

The final, largest box sat, untouched. Jimmy turned to that one next, but paused a moment, unsure. This one was from Gibbs and Abby.

Gibbs, he wasn't worried about. But Abby… he loved the woman like a sister, but God only knew what might be in this box. His burning curiosity as to the contents was solidly tempered by a slight feeling of dread.

"Well, I'm sure it won't jump out and bite you on the buttocks, Mr. Palmer." Ducky smiled warmly, crossing his arms. Jimmy raised an eyebrow at his mentor. "You know that for sure, Sir? This _is_ from Abby." Ducky nodded, and sighed with amusement. "Point taken, my boy."

Jimmy needn't have worried. Inside the final box were two items.

One was labelled in Gibbs' neat but impatient scrawl. "Happy Birthday Jimmy, from Agent Gibbs. Nothing teaches patience like building a boat in your basement."

Underneath the note there lay a box. It was a wooden model set, of a large, intricate sailboat, expert level. Jimmy studied the picture on the box closely. "This is beautiful," he said softly, almost to himself.

Next, he removed the second item from the box. Wrapped loosely in black tissue paper, and tied delicately with black ribbon decorated with white skulls and crossbones, was something soft and spongy.

"To Jimmy, hug me when you need a friend, and when that damned model sailboat has you at your wits end, Lovealways,from Abby."

Curious, Jimmy gave the soft package a firm squeeze, and was greeted with a loud, resounding faux fart.

"Oh… I didn't know Bert had a brother…" he said, laughing in spite of - or perhaps even because of - the crass noise the package had just made. Even Ducky smiled at the crude humour of it. He had himself, after all, been a young boy once, amused far too easily by such things, as most young boys are.

"Oh, yeah. I looked everywhere for him, too. You didn't actually think all I was giving you was a stupid black rose, did you Jims?"

Jimmy whipped around, pivoting on the spot, and was shocked to discover the entire NCIS crew standing there, every last one of them grinning stupidly, eyes asparkle.

"I… guys, I don't know what to say. I mean, I didn't think anyone even knew. Well, uh… besides Ziva and Abby, of course." Jimmy was beginning to blush a deep shade of crimson.

"You probably didn't think anyone even cared, either, did you?" McGee asked, with a small warm, almost brotherly smile. Jimmy shook his head. "Truly, no. This day has just been one screaming disaster after another. I was starting to think there wasn't anything I could do right."

"Yes, well," Ducky said sheepishly, clearing his throat. "A regrettable course of action, but a necessary one, I'm afraid. We had to ensure that this little get together was a completely unexpected surprise. You see, Jethro realized that you may already have mistakenly believed that nobody knew what today was, and so you would not have been surprised that we had simply forgotten… so I'm afraid a more drastic plan of action was called for. I do apologize for my reaction this morning. You were, of course, several minutes early, as usual."

Jimmy looked at Ducky, confused. Then, he turned and glanced towards Tony and McGee. Tony smiled, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "That was my footprint you walked through. No harm, no foul. You didn't actually do any damage at that crime scene. Sorry."

"Well then, what about my liver temp thermometer?"

Ducky shrugged at this. "My old one. I switched them before we left."

"And… your reaction in the lab?" Jimmy asked, turning to McGee. Tim winked and grinned. "There was method to the madness, Palmer. But Abby tells me the kiss was a genuine gesture."

"Unbelievable," Jimmy muttered, sitting down. "Thank you so much, everyone. Really. You could have knocked me over with a feather just now."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze. "Better get those boots broken in before our next case though, or you'll have blisters out the wazoo."

"Well, if you are all finished with my Jimmy, I have dinner waiting for us at home," Ziva said, moving over to where he sat. He blushed again when she reached down and kissed him squarely on the top of his head. "You remember how to build a fire, yes? You were a boy scout?"

"Uh huh," he nodded, turning his face up to meet her delighted expression. "Good," Ziva answered, satisfied. "We'll need a nice, romantic fire to go with that Kosher wine you brought last week."

"Okay, that's too much information," Tony said loudly, leading the way out. "See you tomorrow, guys."

Abby and McGee waved. "Make sure Ziva brings leftovers for lunch tomorrow," Abby giggled, taking McGee's hand. "Oh, come on Abs, you don't really think they're gonna leave any leftovers?" McGee chided gently, then turned as they departed the morgue, whispering to her, "They'll probably have them for breakfast." Then he turned towards the remaining members of the group. "Seeya tomorrow, Jimmy," he waved.

"If you need any pointers on that boat, let me know," Gibbs offered. "But I don't think you'll have too many problems. You're pretty good with your hands." Ziva giggled. "Yes, he certainly is." Jimmy blushed deeply, for the third time in as many minutes. "Ziva, really," he said bashfully. Gibbs frowned. "I didn't hear that, Officer David," he commented lightly, as he too left autopsy.

"Well, I really must be getting home," Ducky sighed. "Mother has offered to cook dinner tonight. I must cut her off at the pass before it's too late. To think that some poor chicken might have died in vain is almost too much to bear," he said, shaking his head. "Not even Tyson and Contessa will touch her cooking. Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Palmer. I will see you in the morning. Same time, I trust. Precisely seven minutes early, as usual." Jimmy nodded and waved. "Yes, Doctor. Same time, same place. Thanks again." Ducky nodded in acknowledgement as he departed.

"Well, dinner is waiting, _Bubbeleh,_" Ziva said, gently pulling him to his feet.

Jimmy followed her obediently, taking her hand in his and allowing her to lead the way out. He smiled with contentment, and thought to himself that this really should be a lesson to him, to never again give up so easily on a day that's seemingly turned so horribly, dreadfully bad.


End file.
